Scream 5
by Say You Wont Care
Summary: Time has passed and the town of Woodsboro has forgotten what it's like to be afraid. But while the parents are away Ghostface will play and with Sydney, Dewey and Gail out of the way their children will be expected to pay the highest of prices. -my love note to Wes Craven
1. He Whispers in the Night

Scream 5

Chapter 1

He Whispers in the Night.

Woodsboro had once been a town made of legends and myths. A grizzly, cross crossing map of blood and torment tainting the otherwise idyllic, sleepy town. Sydney Prescott and her friends had weathered the storm, taken it with them to the big city, and brought it back again leaving a wake of carnage while they alone survived it all.

Some blamed them, hissing at Sydney in the streets, but others knew the truth. Time and time again people rose up to paint the history books with her blood, and time and time again she put them where they belonged… in the ground.

After the second Woodsboro Massacre, and with the revelations of the true killers, the whispers that followed Sydney and her friends finally stopped. The world seemed to realize that no one would ever wish this kind of destruction upon themselves. And murderers would blossom one way or another, so, was it not also logical to think that protectors would blossom to stop them?

Sydney didnt like to think of herself as a protector. She also didn't like to think of herself as a survivor, and above all never a victim. So she took the reins back into her hand and continued on living.

Years past, and in time, Woodsboro began to pretend like it's grizzly past didn't exist. Mom's stopped living in fear every time their phones rang with no caller ID. Dad's stopped keeping their guns in their bedside tables. And kids, well, they stopped prank calling each other and moved on to the next thing like all kids did.

Adam Becker was just coming home from sneaking into his girlfriend's house, smelling of vodka and bad decisions when his cell phone rang. He rolled his blue eyes to high heaven thinking it was his girl calling all needy to hear him tell her how much he loved her after just having had sex.

Typical female.

And like a typical male he didn't even bother to pull out his phone and look to see who it was. The winds were high, messing up his lush blonde hair (more than she had) and he was wanting to get into the house as quickly as possible anyway. Ever since he had been a boy he had hated windy nights. Probably the only reason he had thought about staying with his girl when she begged him to. But he was sweaty, and gross and he wanted a shower.

He also wanted to avoid that twelve gauge in her father's office…

...and the twelve thousand other guns.

Law enforcement parents were terrifying.

He fumbled with the cool metal of the keys, pushing aside his clicker of his push to start car, and finally got to the house key… but then he stopped. A cool chill crept up his spine and for a second he remembered the scary stories that Danny used to tell when they would go camping… stories about Ghostface.

His heart began to beat a little faster, the wind high in his ears when suddenly he got the feeling of being watched. Was he being rational? At six foot one and on the football team he could clearly take anyone that came at him, but why was the boy so scared.

Hearing sharpened, or was he imagining that too? The pat, pat, pat of footsteps growing ever closer when suddenly it became too close and he turned around, back pressed to the door and fists in front of him.

"Is somebody there?" He called out into the dark, imagining that his voice didn't squeak… but it did.

The tall trees swayed in the winds that suddenly seemed to calm as if to say 'unless you mean us, idiot, no, no one is here'. Adam felt ashamed then, exhaling a breath he was quite sure that he had ever taken in. The lighting around his lavish house was good enough to make out the entire yard to the fence line and to the driveway which was considerable.

He shook his head, putting the key in the lock and opening it to finally enter the safety of his home. Heart slipping into a normal pace, he locked, and for extra measure, dead bolted the door. If his parents were coming early from their trip then they surely would understand the extra precautions. Especially since his father was the one who was so keen on those precautions.

A few short steps and the boy was tossing his keys onto the table by the entrance, almost knocking over a glass frame. Drunk or not, his reflexes were quick, lunging for the frame and catching it before it hit the ground.

"Jesus! Shit!" He called out, stumbling but catching himself just in time.

He sighed in relief, knowing his father would have never let him live that down as he used his free hand to set the house alarm before that annoying security guy called him… again. He was forgetful sometimes but in this case he strove to remember because the last thing he wanted was his dad hoping a flight and coming right back home to beat safety into his brain with a long lecture.

Realizing that the picture was still in his hand he lifted it up and found irony in the picture he was holding and what he had been thinking. The blonde girl in the photo was smiling widely, his aunt, the very reason his father was so strict. Moving to the table he placed the photo down where it had been and frowned a little.

Shaking his head, he pulled off his letterman and tossed it aside before kicking out of his sneakers. He needed to re up his buzz after those thoughts that threatened to creep in as he had completely forgotten the phone call from earlier. He would call her tomorrow or something.

With a slight sway in his step, but none too drastic, he made his way across the living room, rolling over the sectional and made his way into the kitchen. There, just behind the ice cream, he found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and quickly opened it to turn it up.

Of course he was careful not to chug too much, but he was suddenly interrupted by his phone ringing yet again. Swallowing down the burning liquid, he pressed the bottle onto the island and dug his phone out. His girl's name was emblazoned on the screen as he had expected and he groaned as he slid over the button to talk.

"Hey baby." He said, trying to sound amicable and failing miserably.

There was no response.

He sighed, "Look, Amanda, I know I didn't pick up earlier… I'm sorry."

Again, silence on the other side of the line.

His temper was growing short. "Babe, seriously? You called me for this shit?"

"Do you always talk to your girl like you'd rather die than speak to her." A voice said, low and gravely, almost sinister on the other end. "Cause that can be arranged."

Adam's voice choked in his throat, eyes widening but not because he recognized the voice… because he didn't.

"W-who is this? Why do you got my girl's phone?"

A laugh, cruel and short came in return, "You're asking the wrong questions."

"Yo," he said, finally getting an inkling of what this could be about, "Is this her way of breaking up with me? Cause if so, fuck you, man! Least she could do is tell me herself!"

"Maybe she already did try, Adam?" The voice whispered, pausing, "Maybe she was trying to call you to tell you when you were ignoring her call on your front porch. Or maybe she was screaming for help in the night while you clutched at your chest at the wind like a fucking coward?"

His heart dropped then, fear taking over ever sign of rage that might have been there before. His hands felt cold, his fingers were trembling as he held his cell phone, and his brain screamed answers to questions that the alcohol in his system wouldn't let him recall.

"That's not funny man." He almost whimpered,

"That's because it isn't a joke." The voice said, almost mocking him.

Adam tried to steel himself, surely this was a joke, it had to be. "Just put Amanda on the phone. You've had your fun."

"The fun begins, boy, when your insides are on the outside. When you're screaming for help and I see the whites of your eyes go dark… then the world will remember. Then the real fun begins."

He would have wished that there were not tears of fear whelming up in his eyes, but this guy was really scaring him. The memory of something important was in his head, but for all the fear and alcohol he still isn't remembering even though every sign was screaming in his face of what was happening.

Time had allowed them to forget the voice that whispers in the night. Time had allowed parents and teens to become complacent and trusting that everything was safe again. But the whisperer was here to remind them that they were not.

Fumbling, Adam pulled out a knife from the kitchen drawer, one that would have made Michael Myers proud. Least his instincts, as foggy as they might be, were still good for something. His heart was racing as he took the knife and pressed himself to the island, kneeling down.

"What do you want?" Adam, whispered, "Where is Amanda?"

There was a long silence, one that almost had Adam hoping that he had hung up the phone, but suddenly the voice on the other end of the phone was laughing. That cold laughter made the fear in his veins spike, flooding him like adrenaline and fogging his brain more than the liquor. And as abruptly as it had started, it had ended.

"You all ask the same questions, as if reading from a script, and always the answers are the same. She's dead, Adam, and now I want to see what your insides look like."

The phone call ended and at the same time an explosion of glass shattering in the living room made Adam jump almost right out of his hiding place. Instantly he dropped his cell phone, not even realizing that he had done it and as the sound of the high winds filled the inside of the house Adam knew he had to make a move. This was real, it was happening and there was no getting around it.

Suddenly the crunch of glass told him that someone was inside and Adam felt stone cold sober then. Did he lunge out from his cover behind the island? That would leave him completely exposed to the living room. He could wait… the alarm would go off and the cops would be here… except…

If his blood could run any colder it would have. There was the sound of a code being entered, four solid beeps and then a ping as the alarm was deactivated… no help was coming now. He had to get out of the house. He had to get back to his truck and get out of here.

Boldly he jumped to his feet, grabbing the bottle of vodka on instinct as he spotted the figure in the lights of the living room. Dressed in that billowing black cloak, back turned to Adam, he stood there assessing the room when suddenly the figure turned and revealed the gaping white face of a ghost.

It all came rushing back to him, the things his brain was trying to scream to him in his drunken, terror filled fit, and he acted before the figure could. With astonishing accuracy, for someone so drunk, he hurled the bottle at the mask and was a bit perplexed when it didn't shatter on contact. Instead there was a sickening thunk as it slammed into his pursuer, the attempted lunge in his direction making the connection that much worse.

The ghostface clad figure fell to the ground, any sound wiped out by the high winds, but Adam was not one to linger. He had seen scary movies, he knew how this worked. Running, he bolted for the door, not slipping or falling once. He headed straight for the front door, unlocking and unbolting it at once and feeling a glimmer of hope.

Throwing the door wide, he was making his first step to the threshold when his path was barred by a piercing pain in his throat and a flash of a white gaping face in his sight. Adam's hand snapped to his neck, clutching as warm liquid flooded it, trying to scream out for help but unable to as only gurgling, horrific pain flooded him.

He stumbled back, hitting the table with his keys and clutched at them as if they would help him now. Adam didn't know what had happened to him, it had happened too fast, and now, as he slid to the ground he stared at the figure advancing on him with bewilderment. How had he gotten there when the figure was over in the living room?

There was too much pain for reasoning, and he was growing weaker. Ghostface knelt before him, knife dripping in blood as he, or she, grabbed the picture frame Adam had almost knocked over. The killer looked it over, his expression hidden behind that mask of startling white, before he turned it and pressed it in front of Adam's face.

The last thing Adam saw was the face of his aunt… Casey Becker. And then he was dead


	2. In the Closet

Chapter 2

In the Closet

Ever since she was a little girl Tatum had learned three things. The first was that on the anniversary of the Woodsboro Massacre you stayed home, no questions asked. Second was that you could never truly know what was going on inside someone's head, anyone could be secretly a killer, even family. And third: her mother was a badass.

She and her twin brother, Randy, despite having a famous mom and a cop for a father had been able to avoid all the chaos that had littered their lives. In fact, serial killers did not often cross the minds of either of them. When the phone rang they did not worry, when they saw the ghost face mask, they barely batted an eye. Life had been good.

It was late as Tatum pulled her dark hair up into a high ponytail to wash her face as she got ready for bed. One more day and her mom would be going on a retreat with her father and Aunt Gale, leaving them to enjoy the town while staying over with Uncle Dewey.

Dewey never interfered much with their lives, though he always wanted them to be safe, he always seemed hopefully optimistic that everything would just be okay. She loved that about the old man. Despite surviving countless horrors, being married to Aunt Gale, and raising a hellion for a son, Danny Reily, he still looked at the world with a boyish charm. She loved her Uncle most of all. Maybe it was because she was named after his sister, but she seemed to be his favorite, too, but don't tell that to Randy or Danny.

People often told Tatum that she looked like the spitting image of her mother, a compliment that brought her pride. Her mother was her idol. Strong, powerful, confident, and a woman that people knew better than to mess with. She wanted to be that, but if she was honest, most days, she thought that Randy was the most like her.

Randy was tall, effortless waves of deep brown upon his head, and eyes that mirrored that of their father Detective Mark Kincaid… aka the only man that wasn't secretly emasculated by their mother on some level. But back to Randy, despite being named after the self proclaimed geek that was their mother's best guy friend, Randy Prescott-Kincaid was nothing of the sort.

Tatum finished rinsing her face, drying it off and then hit the lights to shroud herself in darkness. For the briefest of moments she felt a chill run up her spine, feeling as if she was being watched, but she scoffed imagining what Danny would say. 'One too many scary movies, Kit-Kat,' he would tease, calling her that stupid nickname that had been born of her childhood obsession with the candy.

Exiting the bathroom, she went straight to her room, opening the door and instantly regretting it. Her and her brother, being right twins, had insisted that they share a massive room (which had been intended to be their father's office) that had once been two separate rooms in the lavish home. Even now that they were Juniors in high school, neither of them wanted their own room… but in moments like these she wondered why she felt that way.

There on her brother's full sized bed was, well, her brother which was fine, but… it was who was on top of him that made her groan in disgust. Danny, yes Dewey and Gale's son, was there lip locked with her brother. Their hands were all over each other, groping and pushing clothing aside, not stopping even as she opened the door and she knew damn well they heard her.

Rolling her eyes, she swung a hand to knock over her brother's track trophy which made a very loud clang as it hit the hardwood floor. Reluctantly the groping boys pulled themselves apart. Danny Riley had dark brown eyes, and though his hair was naturally as dark as his father and mother's, for the last several years the jock had bleached it out.

"I could have been mom, you know?" Tatum said, pursing her lips.

Randy sighed, wiping a hand over his mouth, "Mom knocks."

He had a point.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" She shot at Danny, eyes narrowed.

Randy grinned as Danny looked away, "They broke up."

Danny nodded his affirmation.

If Randy had been a girl and been with Danny they would have been walking stereotypes in Tatum's opinion. Randy was a cheerleader, along with his sister, but Randy was also the head cheerleader and secretly dating (this week) Danny, who had defied all expectations and became a full blown football jock and captain of the football team. The two couldn't seem to make up their minds if they were actually dating and Tatum had stopped trying to decipher the angst.

That was one of the things that made Randy so much like their mom. He had come out of the closet in middle school, not caring what anyone said. He had tried out for cheerleading not caring what anyone said. He was strong willed just like her and knew how to go for what he wanted, and crazy smart on top of it.

You are probably wondering why Randy and Danny shouldn't have been seen kissing? Well, the simple answer is, Danny is very much a stereotype in more than one way… he is very much in the closet and cant seem to make up his mind. He was terrified that people would find out and change their mind about him and he wasnt sure if he was gay or not on top of all of that. Danny… well, he was a mess. For so many reasons.

He never worried that Tatum would tell, though.

Ever since she found them groping after a football game and Danny freaked out and started actually crying he had quickly learnt that Tatum didn't care. She quickly found out, however, that he was more scared of the other teens than his parents. He knew Dewey and Gale would accept him no matter what, but kids… kids were cruel.

Tatum closed the door with a sharp snap and fixed her eyes on the boys, "Even if my mother is your god mom, Danny, if she finds you groping her son after curfew she might break your arm."

Danny looked terrified for a moment, fixing her with his eyes that often times could pierce right through a person… something that reminded her all too much of Aunt Gale. Tatum was a little scared of her, and to be fair, when she was a kid she had witnessed her aunt, and god mother, verbally assault a paparazzi making the grown man cry and with the greatest of ease. She was intense.

"I think I am more scared of your dad," Danny lied, using that little bit of toxic masculinity to rebuff the idea that he was scared of a woman.

Danny was very much his mother's son, and that was just a fact, but he would never admit it. He was nosy, meddling, hard headed and stuck in his ways but he had a heart of gold. He stood there, broad shouldered and shirtless with the body of a Greek god and all of the tells that you would find in a scary movie dude bro. But Tatum knew there was something more in him, something that Randy often brought out in him.

Strolling over to her own full sized bed, she hopped up onto the mattress and curled onto her side, propping her head on her hand with an impish grin. The two boys peered at her as Randy picked up Danny's Ambercrombie shirt and chunked itat his face. Like true twins she didn't need to guess what she was about to say. He knew.

"You gotta go, Dan," Randy said firmly, "Mom is about to check in on us. It's almost midnight."

Tatum held up five fingers and began to count down. It all happened so fast, Danny barely had time to pull on his shirt as there came a knock on the twins door just as Tatum's fingers counted down to one. The truth of his lie from earlier was made apparent as Danny looked terrified and threw himself into the closet that was automatically pinned closed by their opening door.

"Hey you two," Sydney said, her voice sounding like she had just yawned.

"Hey, momma," both twins chimed affectionately at once.

Their mother's long hair was pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, dressed in sweats and a long bath robe as she leaned against the doorway, "Getting ready for bed?"

They both nodded.

"Home work done?"

They both nodded.

"Got everything ready to stay with Dewey for the weekend?"

They both nodded.

"Did you tell Danny it's time for him to go home?"

The both nodded and then stopped half nod to exchange looks.

Without missing a beat, her keen eyes on the twins, she unblocked the closet door and opened it pointing for the jock to exit. Never once did she stop looking at her children, fixing them with a look that said that they knew better than to think that she wouldn't know. Finally she looked at Danny who, for all of his bravado earlier, looked like he might piss himself at any moment.

"Your dad called twenty minutes ago and said you snuck out. He's on his way." Sydney said, her eyes drifting between the three of them and for the briefest of moments she looked as if she were reminiscent of something. Something long from her past, "What couldn't wait til the morning, hm?"

Danny sputtered,

Randy met her gaze without faltering.

Tatum simply shrugged and looked at Randy.

"Are you three going to behave this weekend?" Sydney said, looking stern, "Because as important as this event is Gale and I can call it off. We can stay here and make sure that you all behave—"

Randy cut her off, sighing and standing up, "Mom, Danny just needed to talk to someone. He broke up with his girlfriend."

"You mean she broke up with him," Tatum corrected.

They both shot withering glares at her.

It wasn't exactly a lie, honestly. The twins would never outright lie to their mother, because they knew exactly who their mother was. And on top of that, their father was a freaking detective… and Danny's dad was the Sheriff. Teens or not, they weren't stupid.

Sydney's brows furrowed, not because she doubted the truth, but because she was riddling out how to react. She knew her god son was a bit of a player and the girls he usually dated were very frivolous and usually the type of girls that Sydney did not like. The types of girls who stood in bathrooms and gossiped about things they had no idea what they were talking about.

"That Kristen girl," she asked, placing a hand on Danny's shoulder and looking him in the eye before cupping his cheek. There was a pause until Danny nodded his head as she looked over the handsome youth, and sighed, "Danny boy, you can do so much better."

Danny's shoulders slumped a little bit, eyes dropping to the floor with some unspoken emotion. For a moment Sydney's eyes lingered upon him and then she brushed his blonde locks out of his face. She felt a pang in her heart as that blonde hair made him look just like his aunt. How she missed Tatum… everyday. Which was why she had named her daughter after her, something that had made Dewey sob, no less.

Tatum knew what her mother was thinking because she had confessed as much in private. Sydney didnt much talk about the past because she felt like it was a drum that had been beat on endlessly for the majority of her life. She couldn't escape being the hero of the horror story that was her life, but that was not who Sydney wanted to be.

Randy and Danny exchanged looks and Tatum rolled her eyes again just as the sound of cop sirens firing in two short burst signaled Dewey's arrival. Danny instantly looked like a kicked puppy, knowing he was in for a lecture, and Sydney chuckled and kissed his forehead before messing up his already messy hair.

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time, now come on, get…" she nodded her head to the door and immediately held up her hands as the twins started to follow. "Not you two. You two, stay. Bed."

"But, Uncle Dewey," Tatum pouted like a petulant child.

Sydney shook her head, "You'll have all weekend with your Uncle Dewey."

Giving the twins one final look, she exited the room with Danny and closed the door behind her with one last look at Randy. Sometimes Tatum got the feeling that their mother knew more than she let on but the second she brought that up to Randy he would always shoot her down. There was no way his mother would think that a big macho jock like Danny, who had taken baths with them as children, would be into their son. Randy didn't think his mother was that savvy.

"One of these days—" Tatum began to say.

"—you're gonna get caught." Randy finished, rolling his eyes at her this time.

Getting up from his bed, he walked over to the window and looked out at the scene. Danny was getting into the police cruiser with his dad as he and Sydney shared a hug and no doubt talked about the plans for the weekend. There was a moment as he looked out the window that he felt sad, but he was quick to brush it off and push it away.

"We won't get caught," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than her, "because that's the last time."

Tatum paused, hearing the sounds of crunching gravel as the police car left the Prescott-Kincaid residence. Her eyes were fixed on her brother, pushing to the edge of the bed, hands resting on the soft fabric.

"Is it though? I've heard this before."

Randy sighed, "It has to be. After this weekend—"

Tatum frowned, "Yeah, after this weekend."

Neither of them said anything else, sharing a dark look


	3. A Slap Across the Face

Chapter 3

A Slap Across the Face

At school, Randy was in his element, every bit the social butterfly as he walked with his group of friends and sister. They all dressed in their cheerleading uniforms, as was custom for the football game that night and the irony of the cliche was not lost on either of them. Often, their grandfather had told the twins just how much different they were than their mom who had been a drama student and had a small group of friends.

The twins were friends with everyone, or as Tatum liked to say, everyone wanted to be friends with Randy and accepted that Tatum came with the package. She could be awkward at times, a little quiet, but who needed to talk when your brother could carry three conversations at once? It had always been this way.

The duo walked the halls of Woodsboro High with their gang of friends, laughing obliviously to the history that was around them. Yes, they knew all the stories, but youth is as youth does and most times it's oblivious to the past and the weight it carried. The events that happened in these halls had echoed on for generations in ways that were undetectable. These walls had stories to tell if only they would stop to hear them.

Randy waved a hand to his sister, departing to enter Ms. Reed's class and finding his seat at the front. It was his favorite class after all, though he would never have admitted that. He was very aware of how much like his mother that he was but he didnt want to be. It was nothing to be ashamed of but Randy wanted to be his own person, he did not want to be an echo. Sitting here though, in his third year of Drama class, as Ms. Reed lectured them about film and the implications it may or may not have had on actual life.

There was a glimmer in the woman's blue eyes as she talked about film theory like she was a college professor, her blonde hair tidily cut short as her daughter said it had been when she had almost been murdered so many years ago in the final Woodsboro Massacre. Phoebe Reed sat on the left of Randy, watching her mom, Kirby Reed, talk on about slasher films as if everyone was just as enthusiastic as she was.

Most people thought Kirby to have died after being stabbed viciously by Charlie Walker, but, thankfully Charlie was a terrible killer and in his recklessness had left her for dead without making sure. The medics had found her, just as they had found Sydney, on the verge of death and hanging on by a thread, Phoebe had said. The media only focused on Sydney and how she had managed to survive again and many people to this day still thought Kirby had died, a fact Phoebe told Randy that her mom was very amused by.

Kirby had pulled a still, not just on the killer, but the world.

Phoebe Reed was an almost mirror image of her mother. Pixie like body, hair spilling down her back in a cascade of golden, her face ever as youthful and cherubic as her mothers, but her eyes were a gleaming green and while Kirby was a movie buff, Phoebe found it all to be incredibly tedious. She was only taking the class because Randy was one of her best friends and because her mother had insisted.

Upon surviving the horror of her best friend being a serial killer, Kirby had gone to college and briefly pursued a career in film before coming home to raise her daughter and teach in little old Woodsboro. Phoebe had a much younger brother, different fathers, but all along Kirby had refused to be tied down by any man, a fact that her daughter theorized came from being stabbed in the gut by the only man she let her guard down with.

"Randy, tell me, what's your favorite scary movie?" Kirby asked with a grin.

He instantly rolled his eyes. If he had a dime for every time someone asked him this line.

"Well it's definitely not those trash Stab films."

Several of the students in the back booed him, all in good fun and he laughed as a ball of paper was tossed in his direction. Kirby paid it no mind, her focus on Randy and her expression showing her keen interest.

"I assume you have a reason for why the films are 'trash'?" She said, air quoting.

Randy shrugged, "My mother told me the truth, years ago, the entire story, start to finish. The horror my family went through, the gravity of it, sensationalized by Hollywood to be consumed by millions of people who never understood the gravity of the tragedies that befell my mom and her friends."

The room suddenly was quiet, and even Kirby seemed to be hanging on his every word.

"You lived it, Ms. Reed. Even the media sensationalized what happened between my mom's cousin and her. They overlooked the miracle that you survived. The stories are all so skewed. Stab was a flawed rendition, of a flawed book. The scope was biased from the start and Hollywood only narrowed the focus of it all to be consumed like pop media trash."

Kirby smiled faintly, nodding as if she were impressed with his take away.

"As a former fan of the series," she said, getting up from her desk and walking the length of the front of the class, "I have to say, Mr. Prescott-Kincaid, that your take on the Stab franchises is quite accurate, from a biased survivors point of view. Seeing it from the outside is different from living it."

He smiled, letting out a breath as he thought that she was about to rip him a new one. Phoebe whistled, cheering for her friend as she knew that her mother was notoriously hard to please when it came to horror movie film talk. It was a subject the blonde never broached with her mother if she could help it. That, and that horrible night that had befallen her mother and her friends.

"But—" their teacher said, holding up a finger, "You didnt answer the question."

Again Randy rolled his eyes, but he laughed and held up his hands in defeat.

"Fine, fine," he said, "Gun to my head, if I have to pick? A Nightmare on Elm Street. Easily a superior series that could be built on with the core mythos. Freddy didnt randomly kill. He targeted his victims specifically and for reasons, which is more than can be said for the other slasher's of that generation. He's one of the only villains that almost has the audience rooting for what horror he will commit next, his humor having them overlooking the fact that this man literally killed children, tiny children, in real life and that's how he became the dream demon."

Kirby snapped her fingers and pointed at him.

"This is what I want to hear from you all. Our Woodsboro Massacre Anniversary assignment will be to tell me what is your favorite horror film and why. Give me examples of why this villain is your favorite, examples of the struggles. Is there a mythology? Does the killer have a motive? What does each of the 'final girls' embody." She paused, returning to the front of her desk and setting on it as she held her hands up in warning, "But the Stab series is off limits. We will have no more profit in my classroom from the loss of our town. Wow me, people."

The bell rang, resounding and as the students gathered there things and headed for the auditorium for the pep rally, Randy was called back. He looked to Phoebe, motioning for her to wait for him, stepping away from the rest and focusing on his teacher.

"I just wanted to commend you on what you said. The capacity for empathy for the true events behind the Stab movies is not something that I see often." She said when they were alone, "I know you have a unique window via your mom, but there are those that also have that window that do not show the same respect."

He smiled, ducking his head slightly to avoid eye contact.

"Dont worry about the assignment, Randy. A assessment. Enjoy your weekend." She gently swatted his arm with the papers she was holding and waved to her daughter.

"Thanks, Ms. Reed." He said, nodding and then heading to join his friend.

Randy had made it two steps out of the classroom and into the stream of students when he was running almost face first into a girl who looked more than a little pissed with him. Her face, a scowl of rage, stood blocking his path and it was all that Randy could do not to plow into her as he came to an abrupt halt. She was glaring daggers at him, making it know that she was barring his path on purpose.

Recognizing her at once, his stomach was in a knot all of a sudden as he threw Kirby a look. Kristen Lloyd, hair as black as night, dark eyes fixated on him, stood cross armed and looking like she was ready for a fight. He could have pretended like he didnt know what this was about but that would have been an out and out lie.

"You really just cant keep your damn hands to yourself." She said, shoving his shoulder.

He stumbled back a step, his expression becoming tense at once but letting no other emotion show as he spoke to her, "Do not touch me, again, Kristen. What the hell are you even talking about?"

A bark of cruel laughter left the girl, "Do you think I am really that stupid? That any of the girls in this school dont know what you've been doing?"

Randy's brows knit, peering at her with a dangerous intensity, "I think any response I have to that question is going to make me look like a sexist so why dont you get to the fucking point, huh?"

He wouldn't normally speak to a girl like this but he felt corned and did not appreciate anyone putting their hands on him. Ever. No matter if the person was male or female he did not like being touched without consent and seeing as he barely knew this girl it was safe to say that she didnt have any form of consent.

Kirsten stepped forward again, shoving his other shoulder and advancing as if she were going to shove him again. Phoebe bolted in front of him and with full force shoved Kirsten three steps back.

"Back up, bitch. He may not be able to touch you but I think you will find I have no problem." Phoebe snapped quickly, barring Kristen from coming any closer to Randy.

"Oh that's rich. You're gonna defend him? He's sneaking around hooking up with girl's boyfriends and I know you know it. You even dated Danny. Dont act like you didn't notice how those two are always sneaking off together." The words were bellowed from Kirsten as she made to advance forward again.

The hallway was quiet and everyone was looking at Randy and Randy only. His throat seized up, her stopping in his chest as he felt pure and utter dread. Yes, it was true that Danny had cheated on a girl or two with Randy but that was not what had stopped his heart with fear. No one, not a soul, had ever questioned Danny's sexuality. Not even a whisper. Even if they managed to squash this as nothing but a rumor the doubt was going to be there from now on and the whole school was in the hallway to hear it. His fear was for Danny's sake.

"You're gonna tell me that Danny didnt cheat on you or any other girl with this faggot?!" Kirsten yelled again.

"Listen—" Phoebe began to speak but Randy cut across her, moving from behind her.

"So, you are so insecure that you have to come and get in my face? You couldn't keep your man happy so suddenly he has to be gay? Let's just ignore for now that only homophobic cunts still call people 'faggot', and focus fully that you are one fucked up individual with a small, sad view of the world. Should we talk about, maybe, the fact that your entire family are basically neo-nazi's or the fact that you cheated on Danny last Friday when you gave Remy Darling a blow job at the drive in? Hmm? Dont test me. I know a lot more than that if you want to start spilling tea."

Randy was livid with rage. Was it right that Danny had cheated on her at all? No. But was it right for her to out him in this way when the world was still very much a dangerous place for the gay community. Hate crimes happened and Danny could have been beaten bloody by the rest of his football team if they took this rumor to heart. Kristen was no angel and everything Randy had said about her was true.

Slap.

Straight across his face, Kristen had slapped him with the full might of her little body. He staggered a step, hand coming to to cover the sting in his cheek but in a flash even quicker than the slap came his sister. Tatum, like a ball of tiny fury, came flying past her brother throwing a full fisted punch aimed right at Kristen's nose. Randy was barely able to gather himself in time to grab her by her waist and yank her away.

Curses came flying from Tatum's mouth, every name under the sun as she screamed her rage that she had the audacity to touch her brother. Randy was bewildered, humiliated, and baffled that this was even happening. When he focused her realized that Phoebe's mom was restraining Kristen, pulling her to the principle's office.

"Your disgusting," the girl yelled as Kirby continued to pull her away, "both of you, whores just like your whore mother and your whore grandmother! All you do is destroy people's lives!"

Kirby grasped Kristen firmly as the girl spat at Randy and his sister, the spit hitting the ground at his feet and leaving him flinching away from not just the spit but the words. There was an anger boiling under it all, the need to defend his mother's honor but realizing in this scenario he was a guy and had no power.

The students around them were a picture of stunned horror, some with their phones out, recording the incident and slowly Randy had realized his sister had went still in his arms. He looked down at her, seeing the silent tears streaming down her face as the entire school looked on at them and Danny came pushing through the crowd and looking on in disbelief.

The words that had been uttered about his mother. The words about the grandmother that he had never gotten to know. They all echoed in his ears and suddenly he was blaming Danny for it all. If Danny could just stay away from him, or make up his mind and grows some balls to come out of the closet, if he could stop tempting his affections then his sister wouldn't be standing here crying. Seeing his sister hurting had shifted his gears so quickly that when Danny advanced towards his life long friends, Randy was pulling his sister away from him.

"This is your fault." He whispered, face screwed up in rage.

"Randy—" Danny said, looking to him helplessly and then looking to Tatum, "I—"

Tatum gently shrugged out of her brother's hold, stepping into Danny's space and looking up into his eyes as here's still teamed with tears but her voice held nothing but contempt, "Just stay the hell away from us."

Taking his sister's hand into his own the twins turned their backs on Danny and walked away leaving Phoebe and the rest of the school standing all around the jock. Watching. Waiting. As the pair retreated all Danny could do was look on in horror, not seeing the audience, just seeing the pieces of his life falling all around him.


End file.
